


Who's That Girl?

by nagi_schwarz



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the Conspiracy Challenge at story_works for the prompt: "John: Who is that new scientist that I keep seeing everywhere? Rodney: Scientist? I thought they were military."





	

“Who’s that new scientist?” John asked. He and Rodney were eating dinner in the mess hall after a very harried day, settling in the newest wave of Atlantis personnel. Rodney had made a third of the new scientists cry already.  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Really? There are dozens of new scientists running amok in Atlantis and I barely know the names of the ones who’ve been here for four years.”  
  
John gestured vaguely at the back of his own head. “The one with the ponytail.”  
  
“I’ll need more specificity than that,” Rodney said around a mouthful of pasta.  
  
“About yea high, brown eyes, dark skin, darker hair.”  
  
“You just described Teyla.”  
  
“I said _scientist_ , didn’t I? And Teyla doesn’t wear her hair in a ponytail.”  
  
“What does this scientist specialize in?” Rodney furrowed his brow thoughtfully.  
  
“I heard her talking about the mental components of Ancient tech, so I figure either an engineer or something neuroscience-y,” John said.  
  
Rodney shook his head. “Not ringing a bell.”  
  
John nodded. “Her. Over there. Sitting at that table.”  
  
Rodney twisted around to look, abandoning all pretense of subtlety, and it was John’s turn to roll his eyes.  
  
“Oh, her? I’ve seen her. But I thought she was a soldier.”  
  
“She’s wearing blue, Rodney.”  
  
“No, her t-shirt is black.”  
  
“Well, her jacket had blue on it.”  
  
“She’s wearing a thigh holster.”  
  
“Any weapons-rated civilian can wear a thigh holster on base,” John said. “You just never wear yours. After all the work Ford and I put in for you to get weapons rated, too.”  
  
Both men sobered momentarily at the mention of Ford.  
  
“Pretty sure she’s a soldier,” Rodney said finally.  
  
“Whatever. You just don’t want to have to learn another name.”  
  
And that was the end of the conversation.  
  
Only Rodney did see the woman during one of the staff meetings, sitting in the back and listening attentively, taking detailed notes. By hand, rather than on her datapad, but at least she was paying attention.  
  
John saw her doing drills with Lorne’s team, foothold drills, emergency evac drills, urban combat.  
  
No one Rodney asked knew her name, could quite describe her face, though they always recognized her when Rodney pointed her out. She was pretty, remarkably so, but there was something about her that was just...uncanny.  
  
No one John asked knew her name, could quite explain her rank or branch of service or gate team, but they always knew who she was when John pointed her out. She was skilled, remarkably so, but something about her didn’t sit right with a lot of the Marines.  
  
“So, learned her name yet?” John asked over dinner a few weeks later.  
  
“Figured out she’s a soldier yet?” Rodney shot back.  
  
The answer, both of them realized, was Lorne. Lorne knew everything that happened on Atlantis. The reason he knew everything that happened on Atlantis, of course, was because he was everywhere in Atlantis, behind the scenes, making sure things got done, and therefore impossible to find. Everyone they asked knew where Lorne was, but he’d just moved on by the time they got there. John would have suspected Lorne of playing a game of cat and mouse with them, except Lorne wasn’t that kind of guy. He was just...busy.  
  
Rodney got fed up with all the walking around very quickly, even with the use of transporters. “Let’s just go get dinner,” he said finally.  
  
John only acquiesced because he knew Lorne wasn’t the kind of soldier who’d deliberately duck his commanding officer, and together they headed for the mess hall. They took a shortcut through an unused section of the city, because Rodney liked shortcuts and John liked to explore, and then they heard - laughter.  
  
Female laughter.  
  
Light and musical and pretty. That strange woman’s laughter.  
  
“Uh, Doctor?” John tried. “Is that you?”  
  
Rodney elbowed him sharply. “Captain?”  
  
“She’s not a captain,” John hissed.  
  
They heard the woman’s laughter again, this time lower, more sultry. They started toward the sound of her voice, and then a man chuckled, low and dirty, and they paused.  
  
“Oh. Um,” Rodney said, backpedaling. He crashed into John, and they both tumbled to the floor in an ungraceful heap.  
  
And then Lorne, of all people, poked his head around the corner. “Sir? Rodney?”  
  
“Major,” John said, climbing to his feet with all the dignity he could muster. He offered a hand to Rodney, who clambered up as well. “What are you -?”  
  
“Everything all right, Evan?” _She_ poked her head around the corner as well. Up close, she was startlingly pretty, with big dark eyes, full lips, and a cute little nose.  
  
Lorne immediately blushed.  
  
“You!” Rodney cried.  
  
The woman blinked. “Me? Me what?”  
  
“Who _are_ you?” Rodney demanded.  
  
“Doc,” Lorne protested, but Rodney plowed ahead.  
  
“Are you a scientist or a soldier?”  
  
Given that she hadn’t called John ‘sir’ or reacted like a soldier in the presence of a superior officer, John was pretty sure she was a civilian.  
  
“My name is Atlantis,” she said. “I work in Ops, with Chuck and Amelia.”  
  
John blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say _Atlantis?_ ”  
  
Lorne turned an even deeper shade of red.  
  
“That’s a unique name,” Rodney offered, remembering his manners. “What are the odds of that, you being sent here?” He and John had stumbled upon Lorne making time with his girl. Happened with people now and again, what with habitable areas being small, in the end.  
  
“Yes, John,” the woman said, and smiled brightly, and there was a pause before John’s eyes went wide and he caught her by the wrist, tugged her away from Lorne.  
  
“You!” John cried, jabbing a finger at Lorne. “How dare you - you -” He tugged the woman behind him, assumed a protective stance.  
  
Lorne was so red he looked ready to burst into flame. “Sir -”  
  
“You can’t be kissing her and - and touching her,” John spluttered.  
  
“John.” The woman tugged free and pouted. “Kissing Evan is fun!”  
  
“Sir,” Lorne said weakly.  
  
John wheeled around to face the woman. “What are you doing, running around in like this? Who’s controlling the city? Who’s -?”  
  
The woman caught John’s face between her hands, stilled him. “It’s fine, John. Everything is fine. The city is fine. Atlantis is fine. I am Atlantis, and we are fine. Now, you’re hungry, and Rodney is hungry. Go to the mess hall and eat. Evan and I have some unfinished business.” She stepped away from John and reached out, clasped Lorne’s hand in hers.  
  
John blinked rapidly, shocked. “I...yes. Of course. Just - you...you have her in bed by eleven, you hear me, Lorne? No, not in bed. _Home._ Home by eleven.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Lorne said, swallowing hard.  
  
The woman laughed.  
  
She was crazy, and she was making John act all stupid and crazy and chivalrous, but she was right about one thing: Rodney was hungry, and so was John. Rodney tugged on John’s shoulder. “C’mon, John. Let’s go get some food.”  
  
“I’m watching you,” John said to Lorne, but he allowed Rodney to tow him away.  
  
“I’ll be fine,” the woman said, laughing some more, and Lorne yelped.  
  
“Whoa, easy! We need to find somewhere more private.”  
  
They were halfway to the cafeteria before Rodney realized.  
  
“Wait. That woman is _Atlantis?_ ”


End file.
